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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25248022">Passing Currents</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rev02a/pseuds/rev02a'>rev02a</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Torchwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aliens, Animal Death, F/M, Hypocrisy, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:06:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,226</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25248022</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rev02a/pseuds/rev02a</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen assists with clean-up after a case is finished. </p><p>(Potentially read as character bash, but I didn't intend it that way.) Reposted from 2010 on my LJ.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gwen Cooper/Jack Harkness (Unrequited), Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Copied from my LiveJournal, written in 2010.</p><p>In retrospect, I should have made Gwen a touch more strong-woman-not-whiny-girl... but that face she makes just pushes me over the edge sometimes.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="">
  <em>“Hypocrisy and distortion are passing currents under the same roof.” – Unknown</em>
</p><p class="">Janine Maxwell was six-years-old. She was 117 centimeters in height, weighing 19 kilograms. She was a tiny thing, with curling blonde hair and a pristine school uniform. It made Gwen sick to look at the tiny girl laying out on the gurney. The bullet hole in her forehead looked rather like a ruby now that it had stopped oozing.</p><p class="">Gwen turned away from the autopsy and sucked in a shaking breath. It was the only way to stop the parasite; it had already killed three times—Janine’s parents, Peter and Hannah Maxwell, and her maternal grandmother Dorthea. Regardless, Gwen was angry with Jack for taking the shot. This job was useless! Innocents always died. She shut her eyes tightly and resolved to deal with the problem immediately. After all, she was the only one who could make Captain Harkness see reason.</p><p class="">            Ignoring the work going on around her, Gwen marched up the metal stairs and stormed into Jack’s office. He apparently knew she was coming, and he looked up from his computer screen as she scaled the landing.</p><p class="">“How could you, Jack?” she seethed, tears springing into her huge eyes. “She was a child! She just began school!”</p><p class="">Jack sighed and pushed aside his mouse. He leaned back in his chair, and braced his arms on the armrests. “What would you have me do, Gwen? Let that Gyhjjiop run loose? It would have killed more, and once it had eaten enough, it would have spawned. And its offspring would have taken more hosts. We’d be facing an invasion—“</p><p class="">“But what about Janine Maxwell, Jack?” Gwen cried, her hands tightening into fists before her chest. “Didn’t she deserve the right to grow up?”</p><p class="">“She wasn’t going to get that chance. She lost it the second that Gyhjjiop took hold of her brain.”</p><p class="">Jack stood and walked around the desk, his hand out to touch her shoulder. Gwen tensed and stood. She could not accept his comfort until she had made him see reason.</p><p class="">“Then what are we doing now, Jack?”</p><p class="">Jack looked down into the Hub, noting the other three of the team in various stages of their work. “We begin the clean up, Gwen. You can go home, I’m sure Rhys would be glad to see you.”</p><p class="">“No,” Gwen growled, as she pushed past Jack, “I think I’ll see just what goes into ‘clean up.’ This is more bodies in the bay, isn’t it?”</p><p class="">            Gwen knew that it was Ianto’s job to do clean up and crowd control. As far as she knew, that was dispensing Retcon and filing fake news reports—all heartless work. As she descended the stairs, she met Ianto on his way up to speak to Jack.</p><p class="">“Jack,” Ianto began, holding out a single sheet of paper, “here are the options I’ve worked out. Both are plausible. Which would you like?”</p><p class="">It was like he was asking Jack to choose his supper instead of covering up a murder. Gwen seethed and grabbed the paper before Jack could read it. She scanned the paper and looked up at Ianto in horrified surprise.</p><p class="">“You’re going to make it look like a kidnapping?” Ianto raised an eyebrow at her outrage.</p><p class="">“I usually lend our crimes to the un-extraordinary: road accidents, heart attacks, and the like, but a GSW to the head is hard to cover up,” he replied, unruffled.</p><p class="">Gwen stared at him incredulously, while Jack reclaimed the paper from her. “As you can see,” Ianto continued, guiding Jack through his report, “the family could either be killed during the kidnapping, or the mother could go on a suicide-pact, killing off her remaining family. Hannah Maxwell was a bit touched in the head; she believed in mass Armageddon, etc.”</p><p class="">Jack nodded. “You’re leaning toward that then?”</p><p class="">Ianto rested his hip on the handrail of the stairs, “Easy set up. Nothing to do to the bodies, just place a little poison in the food…”</p><p class="">“Using the chemical residue in their bloodstream from the Gyhjjiop … good work.”</p><p class="">Gwen looked between the two of them in horror. Were they planning to cover up the event with such little concern for the family who had suffered such a horrific event?</p><p class="">“As for Janine, I think I’ll need to plant evidence.”</p><p class="">“Sounds like you’re in for a busy night,” Jack replied, but waved his hand in a “go on” sort of way. With permission granted, Ianto nodded decisively and began down the stairs.</p><p class="">“Gwen,” Jack continued, returning to his office, “Since you’ve decided to work late tonight, you’re with Ianto. You will assist him in the cover up.”</p><p class="">She opened and closed her mouth uselessly. A small cry of outrage escaped her. “I.. I can’t!” It was unthinkable.</p><p class="">Jack turned back to face her, the paper clutched in his hand. It crumpled around his fingers’ tight hold. His eyes glittered dangerously and his jaw was set in a hard line. “You will. Get to work.”</p><p class="">How could he make her be involved in such a thing? She was the heart of Torchwood! It was her job to make them feel human again—not to cover up an alien attack resulting in murder! Gwen stumbled on the stairs but caught up with Ianto quickly. He walked in long strides to his destination, a storage room off of the Archives, taking no pause to allow her to match his pace. He pulled on a pair of rubber gloves from Owen’s supplies and then collected a coil of rope-like twine, a roll of gaffer tape, and a straight-back wooden chair. Silently, he led her to the autopsy room. Gwen slowed as they neared the white-tiled room.</p><p class="">“What are we going to do?” she asked, hesitantly. She feared that she knew the answer, and, if she was right, she might be sick.</p><p class="">In the center of the autopsy bay, Janine was laid out on the metal table. She stared sightlessly at the ceiling. Owen sat on his stool, rolling to-and-fro absently.</p><p class="">“About time,” he grumbled when he saw Ianto, “some of us have places to be.” He stood and kicked the stool under a tray near the computer.</p><p class="">“Yeah, well,” Ianto replied, darkly, “enjoy a good drink for me. I think it’ll take a couple of shots to get this one scourged off my brain.”</p><p class="">Owen looked at Ianto in disbelief. “Did Jack not tell you what happened last time I had a drink?”</p><p class="">Ianto grimaced in distaste. “Yes. Lovely pillow talk, that was.”</p><p class="">“Right, so I’ll leave the drinking to you, then shall I?” He sounded disheartened. During their brief affair, Owen drank often. Gwen frowned. Perhaps he was an alcoholic. If that were the case, perhaps he was in some form of withdrawal, it would certainly account for his mood. Could a zombie go into withdrawal?</p><p class="">Owen took a look at the items that Ianto was carrying before putting his own gloves on.</p><p class="">“Joining us, PC Cooper?” Owen teased when he saw Gwen standing at the top of the stairs.</p><p class="">“She has the privilege of assisting me tonight,” Ianto explained dryly. He uncoiled some of the twine. Absently, Gwen noted that her grandmother had chairs with seats bound from similar twine. Owen looked at the body and then hoisted the chair up onto the table.</p><p class="">“Best come help then, Gwen,” Owen said with mock-sweetness.</p><p class="">“I’d rather not,” Gwen snapped, hugging her arms to her chest.</p><p class="">“Suit yourself. Harkness won’t be best pleased that you ignored an order,” Owen said with a shrug. He reached over to Janine’s shoulder and turned her body while Ianto fit the chair between her and the table. Gwen’s eyes opened a margin larger.</p><p class="">            Ianto cut a length of rope off with a knife and then began to tie Janine’s unresponsive hands behind her back.</p><p class="">“What are you doing!?” Gwen cried out, panicked. She ran down the stairs and reached out to stop Ianto from tying the knot.</p><p class="">“My job,” Ianto snapped. “I have to make an alien attack look like a kidnapping.”</p><p class="">Gwen sputtered. This was insanity.</p><p class="">“But her family will worry!” she cried in protest.</p><p class="">“Her family has their brains turned to alien Jell-O—slurp! —Don’t you recall?” Owen teased, viciously. He grinned toothily at her, but it wasn’t playful, it was venomous like a snake. It was as if he was bullying her.</p><p class="">“She’s someone’s child!” Gwen cried, her eyes tearing.</p><p class="">Ianto offered no response, but he tied Janine’s feet to the legs to the chair also. Then, wordlessly, he and Owen lifted the girl off the table and onto the waiting gurney. They slid the tray into the morgue drawer. Almost as an afterthought, Ianto pulled off a section of gaffer tape and adhered it to the girl’s mouth.</p><p class="">“Are you going to make this look like a crazy?” Owen asked, peeling off his gloves and tossing them into the biohazard bag. “If so, you need to cut off some of her hair or take her shoes or something. Those crazy ones always take tokens.” Owen’s eyes were haunted.</p><p class="">“You’re sick,” Gwen whispered, appalled.</p><p class="">“You’re right,” Ianto replied, to Owen, and it seemed a response to both of his team members. He reopened the drawer and slipped off the girl’s black plastic Mary Janes. Owen handed him an evidence bag. Ianto zipped the shoes into it. Owen offered him a pair of shears for the girl’s hair.</p><p class="">Gwen glared at both men’s backs. “How can you do this?”</p><p class="">“I have to pay my bills somehow,” Owen replied, nonchalant. Ianto slipped hair into a small evidence envelope that Owen held out. Gwen could not make out the blonde hairs from the distance.</p><p class="">Owen studied the girl on the tray with a critical eye. “Make sure that the chair’s weight’s not on her hands. The forensic technician would try to figure that one out… we want it to look like she was tied up, not left for post-mortem bruising.”</p><p class="">Ianto nodded absently, then turned the body. Gwen felt her gore rising. Without a word to her, Ianto shut the drawer and removed his gloves. Above them at his station, Owen was pulling on his coat. Ianto gathered the two pieces of “evidence,” along with the gaffer tape and twine, and secured them into a hard plastic case. It looked like a toolbox.</p><p class="">“C’mon Tosh, I’ll walk you out,” Owen called, hurrying up the steps two-at-a-time.</p><p class="">Ianto led Gwen up the stairs out of the autopsy pit. Gwen glanced mournfully back at the drawer where Janine Maxwell lay dead and tied to a chair. Ahead of her, Tosh gathered her bag and turned off her multiple computer screens.</p><p class="">“Ianto,” she called, “I put out an APB for a missing child matching Janine’s description. I postdated it for two days ago. I’ve also hacked the system so that it looks like multiple detectives have read the file.”</p><p class="">Ianto nodded gratefully. “Thank you. Have you planted any leads?”</p><p class="">Tosh shook her head. She seemed regretful. “I wasn’t sure what you were planning.”</p><p class="">Gwen stepped forward, outraged. “He’s planning to make it look like those good people were nut jobs who went suicidal once they learned of Janine’s kidnapping! And now he’s tied her up to a chair!”</p><p class="">Tosh looked remorsefully toward Owen’s Autopsy. She laid her hand on Ianto’s arm. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said gently. Ianto smiled tightly.  “Ready, Owen?”</p><p class="">Owen was at the cog door already, swinging his arms impatiently. He held the metal gate open for Tosh; they exited together and Gwen glared at the alarm that marked their leaving.</p><p class="">“What’s left to do?” she snarled, “Set up the murderer?”</p><p class="">Ianto nodded and Gwen gaped. “We have a field trip next; framing a murder goes last.”</p><p class="">The drive to the Maxwell house was silent. They rode in Ianto’s car, a clean blue sedan that replaced the Audi that was run off the road leaving that fertility clinic months before. This was a nice car, Gwen thought begrudgingly, much nicer than Rhys would drive. It had an expensive sound system, and the siren and lights were discretely worked into the vehicle so that, had Gwen not been looking for them, she never would have noticed them. Ianto was listening to a book on CD in French, but he flipped to Radio One once he started the engine. Gwen stared incredulously at the radio buttons.</p><p class="">“That wasn’t English,” she noted, stupidly. Ianto grinned.</p><p class="">“It’s <em>Harry Potter</em>, if you’d believe it,” he said, gesturing at the stereo where the audio book was housed. “Jack keeps joking that we’ll convince UNIT to send us to Paris for the weekend to ‘investigate’. I want my French to be sharp if it ever happens.”</p><p class="">Gwen adjusted the seatbelt so that it was not pressing into her breast. “Why a children’s book?”</p><p class="">Ianto made a face as if he seemed a little unclear himself. “It has commonly used vocabulary, minus the magic terms; plus, I know the story. Interruptions during a chapter can get confusing otherwise.”</p><p class="">Gwen bit her lip as she digested what she’d learned about her colleague: he spoke another language, he listened to audio books in the car, and he wanted to take a vacation in Paris with Jack. Well, not that Gwen could blame him for the latter; she allowed herself a guilty moment to image sitting on a sidewalk café with Jack. They’d discuss the painted ceilings of the Louver or the gardens of Versailles. They’d take the Chunnel over and eat a picnic while on the train. Maybe Jack would convince her to have sex in a train loo. Gwen let her mind drift to specifics. Her cheeks reddened and her breathing sped up.</p><p class="">Gwen wiggled in the passenger seat. She was suddenly too hot. She reached for the window controls, but had to stretch against the seat belt to succeed.</p><p class="">“Why is the seat so far back?” she grumbled, as she decided to readjust the position of the chair. It gave her a chance to focus on something other than her fantasy.</p><p class="">“Jack has long legs,” Ianto replied, adjusting the temperature of the vents without her asking.</p><p class="">Gwen looked up in surprise. “Jack lets you drive? Why is he in your car anyway?”</p><p class="">Ianto glanced over at her in interest. The streetlights cast quick orange-tinted shadows across his face. He seemed to be trying to read her.</p><p class="">“It’s my car, thus I drive. He may pay me, but I make the car payments.”</p><p class="">Gwen shifted again. “But where do you go without needing the SUV?” She stared at him, puzzling out this new development.</p><p class="">“The usual. The flat. The market. Sometimes just out for a drive,” he gave a small, secret smile. “The Queen doesn’t take too kindly to us budgeting out petrol for our dates.”</p><p class="">Gwen straightened in her seat. “You go on dates? With Jack?” she sounded incredulous.</p><p class="">Ianto flipped the indicator even though there was no traffic to be seen at this time of night. He considered Gwen for a brief moment before he eased the car into a turn.</p><p class="">“We have similar interests; there’s a lot to do in Cardiff—Rift permitting. Sometimes he drives, mostly though I think he likes to be chauffeured. I prefer his car, however. It,” Ianto grinned mischievously, “has a sunroof.”</p><p class="">Gwen blinked in surprise. “Jack has a car?”</p><p class="">Ianto glanced back at Gwen in disbelief. “He is an adult with normal adult needs, like going to Tesco, which is much easier to accomplish in a vehicle.”</p><p class="">Gwen shook her head and smiled, “Yes, but he lives in the Hub, he doesn’t have normal needs like others—“</p><p class="">“I beg your pardon,” Ianto replied, slowing the car as he pulled up to the Maxwell’s address, “but he does not live at the Hub.”</p><p class="">Gwen’s eyes widened to large orbs, “What? No, he does! He has a little camp bed and everything!”</p><p class="">Ianto parked the car and looked at her with annoyance. “Yes, for late nights. However, most nights he spends at his flat.” Ianto opened the door, climbed out, and headed for the boot of the car.</p><p class="">Gwen hurried to unbelt and chased after him. She felt like his little sister. Ianto lifted out the toolbox that Gwen had seen previously at the Hub. She shivered a little at the thought that Janine Maxwell’s hair was in that box. “I didn’t know that! How do you know?”</p><p class=""> Ianto took a breath before answering. He seemed to be preparing himself for something. “Because we live together, Gwen.”</p><p class="">Gwen felt her mouth fall open. Ianto looked at her calculatingly before he walked around the side of the house to the kitchen entrance. Once there, he donned a pair of latex gloves before unlocking the door. Gwen followed slowly behind him. Her mind raced. Jack wanted to take Ianto to Paris. Jack had a car. Jack lived with Ianto. It was all very confusing.</p><p class="">“You need gloves,” Ianto announced gruffly, breaking through her thoughts. He opened the outer lid to the toolbox and removed a pair in her size. He held them out to her.</p><p class="">“You live together,” she said slowly, ignoring the silent offering.</p><p class="">             Ianto offered the gloves again and Gwen took them. As Ianto opened the door, they were assaulted by the smell of death. It was thick in the air. Ianto coughed before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a cloth mask. He fit it over his ears and covered his mouth and nose. Gwen wrinkled her nose and pointed at his black box. She clasped her shirtsleeve over her nose.</p><p class="">            “Is there one for me?”</p><p class="">            He stepped into the house and set his box on the kitchen counter. Gwen noticed that he did not clear a space for it, just set the box on top of a pile of post. Ianto undid the latches and opened the lid. Inside the inner-tray was another mask, which she accepted gratefully. It wasn’t an attractive look, but Jack was not there to see her. She arranged her hair around the elastic of the mask and began to look around.</p><p class="">            Ianto clicked on his torch and led her into the house. Torchwood had observed the scene when they first learned of the Gyhjjiop’s existence. Hours had passed since then. Gwen decided that it was not acceptable to be sick. She had vomited in the Brecons, but that was entirely understandable; there were skinned corpses there! This, however, barely seemed to phase her companion, and there was no way she was going to let him look better than her.</p><p class="">            “Right,” Ianto began, circling the room with his torchlight, “first, I need to work on the computer. Could you go inventory the medicine cabinet for me?”</p><p class="">It was rather below her abilities and training, but Gwen headed toward the main area of the house, hoping to find the bathrooms quickly. She was struck dumb, however, by the sight of the three bodies in the lounge. She gasped. Ianto ran to her.</p><p class="">            “Are you alright?” he asked, concerned.</p><p class="">            “They’re dead!” she exclaimed, ashamed of her outburst.</p><p class="">Ianto looked downright baffled. “Well,” he looked down at the corpses, “yes. But you saw them this afternoon when we came for the alien.”</p><p class="">This was true. Gwen grimaced and stepped over the grandmother’s outstretched arm. The bath must be down the hall. Gwen made her way toward it at a sedate pace. There were photographs on the walls, the typical sort that were expected in a family home: weddings, births, family on holiday—that sort. Gwen looked longingly at the wedding portrait. Her own photographer had been eaten. There were some cleverly edited photographs, but they weren’t nice like this.</p><p class="">The hallway was breezy, almost chilly, probably from an unseen open window. Gwen wondered if she should shut it as she entered the Maxwell’s bathroom. The loo was clean, like the family had been expecting company. On the floor, next to the toilet, Gwen noted a cat litter box. There had been no evidence of the cat that afternoon, and Gwen surmised that it had fled the home when the alien had begun its attack.</p><p class="">The medicine cabinet was a rickety, mirrored thing that looked like it should have been replaced in 1979 when fashion changed. It was filled with brown medication bottles, mostly prescribed to the elderly woman of the house. There was, however, a bottle of ED meds, which made Gwen giggle. Mr. Maxwell had little blue friends when it came to help in the bedroom, and yet he looked quite young. This thought made her consider Jack—he was, what? over one hundred? Did he need help in that arena?</p><p class="">            Curious, Gwen headed back into the lounge. Ianto was hunched over a Torchwood laptop, apparently using it to tap into the Maxwell family computer. He easily transferred files that he had previously created into their documents, email, and browsing history. He glanced up at her for a quick second before resuming his work. He spoke to her without eye contact.</p><p class="">            “Anything worth using?” he asked her.</p><p class="">Gwen, however, was thinking about a certain prescription and her prior quandary. “Does Jack need assistance to…” her words dwindled off in embarrassment, “well, you know?” Gwen tried to clarify herself by waving a gloved hand at her midsection.</p><p class="">Ianto turned from the laptop. His eyebrows were set in confusion and his forehead was wrinkled. “To what, Gwen? Deal with upset stomach? You didn’t vomit, did you?” He sounded exasperated.</p><p class="">“What? No! I was just wondering about… well… your…. Weevil Hunting. You know? And if his, um, equipment all functioned?”</p><p class="">Ianto continued to stare at her in complete befuddlement. “Are you asking if he can achieve an erection without medication?” He finally asked blandly.</p><p class="">Gwen felt her cheeks heat. Ianto took this as agreement, and looked back at Hannah, Dorthea, and Peter Maxwell, all with their faces frozen in deathly horror. “You’ll forgive me, Gwen, but I was always taught to speak well of the dead and to treat them with respect. I highly doubt that the Maxwell family would like me to discuss my sex life with you now; I know my mother would be horrified.”</p><p class="">Gwen flushed again. “Yes, of course.”</p><p class="">Then a flash of irritation radiated up from her heart. “Wait! What would your mother say to the knowledge that you were fixing these people’s deaths into a murder?”</p><p class="">Ianto looked solemnly at Peter, slouched in his chair, eyes staring glassily in his wife’s direction. “My mother was a pragmatist.” He returned to his keyboard and transferred another collection of documents.</p><p class="">Gwen waited for him to defend himself. She wanted to hear about his mother and how she would deal with knowing that her son was a conspiracy theorist’s worst nightmare. Her mind then drifted to wondering what Mrs. Jones would have thought about a gay son.</p><p class="">“You told me once that your mother suspected that you were… homosexual,” Gwen hedged, shifting closer to Ianto at the desk. She saw Ianto begin to hack into the computer’s date and time programming. He edited the dates of creation on the planted documents and emails. They appeared to have been created weeks in advance.</p><p class="">“Bi-sexual,” Ianto replied, in an almost-sotto voice.</p><p class="">Gwen waved the information off as inconsequential. “Right.”</p><p class="">Ianto snapped the laptop cover shut. He was apparently finished with the computer. “What did you find in the medicine cabinet?”</p><p class="">Gwen gaped under her mask. Her mouth hinged for a moment, before she answered honestly, “Some pills.”</p><p class="">Ianto closed his eyes tightly. He pushed past her and walked toward the bathroom himself. Gwen quickly listed off the specific names, and Ianto’s shoulders visibly relaxed. He looked thoughtful before he commanded her to bring him two of the bottles. Gwen ruffled.</p><p class="">She was the second-in-command. She was the Heart of Torchwood. How dare the office boy order her to do anything! With a snarl, she stomped into the bathroom and grabbed the required medicine. Ianto was in the kitchen staging a scene.</p><p class="">On the counter, he had located a decanter and had measured a good deal of scotch into it. He held out his gloved hand for the medications. As he grasped them, Gwen began her interrogation again.</p><p class="">“Seriously, how did your mother take your whole… sexuality, thing?” Ianto uncapped one bottle of pills and poured the contents on a nearby cutting board.  The second bottle joined the first.</p><p class="">“My mother spent most of her life in a mental institution. She didn’t deal with anything well.” Ianto did not pause from his work. Gwen was mortified.</p><p class="">“Ianto! I am so sorry! I didn’t know!”</p><p class="">Ianto selected a knife from the wooden knife block and began to cut the pills down the center.</p><p class="">“Yes,” he replied, quietly, “I know you didn’t.”</p><p class="">Gwen struggled to find words to undo her faux pas. “Is she still there? Do you visit her often?”</p><p class="">Ianto froze. The knife rested against the cutting board. In the torchlight, Gwen thought that Ianto seemed to age.</p><p class="">“She died when I was fourteen.”</p><p class="">Well, shit.</p><p class="">Ianto resumed cutting the pills. The newly emptied pill capsules were dropped into the rubbish bin and covered with a few pieces of junk mail. It was done methodically. During her PC beat time, Gwen had been out on a few suicide attempts. If pills were involved, the scene was usually cleaned up—to keep things looking normal. Ianto knew what he was doing.</p><p class="">The medicine, now a fine dust of white, was carefully poured into the decanter and swirled with the scotch until it dissolved. Then Ianto poured a measure into three glasses. Then, he poured most of the liquid from each glass down the drain.</p><p class="">“What are you—“</p><p class="">“Well,” Ianto explained, sounding frustrated, “to be poisoned, they would have had to drunk some of it.”</p><p class="">He turned on the tap and rinsed the sink out. The decanter was brought into the living room. Ianto lifted Hannah’s hand and squeezed her fingers around the decanter multiple times. He did the same with one glass, before lifting it her lips. He tipped the corpse so that some of the tainted scotch poured into her mouth and down her throat. When he was finished, there was nice lipstick mark on the edge of the glass. It was set next to her chair. He repeated this for Peter and Dorthea. He threw Dorthea’s glass to the ground, allowing the alcohol to spill into the carpet.</p><p class="">Gwen watched it all. Yes, she was horrified. But, somehow, watching Ianto’s methodical actions, she was able to compartmentalize the horror at that moment.</p><p class="">Ianto stepped back and surveyed the scene. He nodded.</p><p class="">“We’re off then,” he announced. Gwen followed him without a word.</p><p class="">Once she was outside again, she ripped off the gloves and mask and took gasping breaths of clean night air. Ianto locked the door behind her and looked at her in concern.</p><p class="">“Alright?” She ignored him.</p><p class="">Ianto went to the boot of his car and placed the toolbox in, and removed a spray bottle filled with clear liquid.</p><p class="">“Gwen, I have a question.” She looked at him at his request. “Was there ever a criminal—a pedophile, specifically—that you and the department knew had done a crime, but you were unable to prove it?”</p><p class="">Without thinking too hard, a face sprung to mind. “Robert Smeeth.” His greasy, sallow skin reminded her of a snake. He always smelled of old cooking oil. He sneered when he was interrogated. “He killed a little girl. He had one of her shoes. We never found her body—he got away with it.”</p><p class="">Ianto nodded, digesting this knowledge. He retrieved his laptop again, and shut the boot. He used it as a makeshift desk. Deftly, he accessed the police database and drew up Smeeth’s details. Ianto scanned the information and Gwen shifted uncomfortably.</p><p class="">“Oh, good,” Ianto commented, without excitement, “he lives nearby.”</p><p class="">In her peripheral vision, Gwen saw a light come on in a house. The neighborhood was quiet. The brick townhouses were the type that she imagined were nice for raising kids. A few front gardens had abandoned toys in them. The Maxwell’s had chosen well for their daughter.</p><p class="">The house that had caught Gwen’s attention was apparently part of the neighborhood watch—or was just owned by nosey people. The curtains twitched in the front room. Ianto closed his laptop, and returned it to the boot.</p><p class="">Then, without explanation, he walked toward the home of the nosey, awake neighbor. Gwen hurried after him again. Ianto knocked on the front door—it sounded powerful and forceful.</p><p class="">No one responded. It was, after all, very early in the morning.</p><p class="">“Please open up! We’re the police!” Ianto announced in a clear Welsh voice. Gwen looked at Ianto in disbelief. Impersonating a constable was illegal.</p><p class="">The door opened slowly, but the homeowner left the chain on. Regardless, as soon as Ianto could see a face, he raised the spray bottle and gave a healthy spritz to the elderly woman’s face. Gwen gasped.</p><p class="">“Ianto!”</p><p class="">“You saw a dark colored passenger car drive by the Maxwell house multiple times last week. It would slow down when children were out. You think that the man driving was in his late forties, heavy set, balding. The car looked to be a 1980’s Fiat.”</p><p class="">Without another word, Ianto pulled the door shut in the woman’s face and then walked back to his car. Gwen did a double take at the closed door and then ran, furious, toward Ianto.</p><p class="">“What did you just do?” she hissed, her voice echoing off the houses.</p><p class="">“Retcon,” he replied, much quieter, “it leaves witnesses susceptible to information, or planted information, in this case. And the witness never remembers me.”</p><p class="">He unlocked the driver’s side of his car and climbed in. Gwen looked back at the “witness’s house” before scrambling into the car.</p><p class="">“You just planted a witness!” she accused, barely containing the urge to berate him.</p><p class="">“And faked a kidnapping and mass suicide.”</p><p class="">“Wait, you faked the kidnapping?!” she cried.</p><p class="">“Yes, the emails. I used the local Starbuck’s wifi for the IP address the emails were sent from. And I achieved them on a local public server. The police should have more than enough evidence when we’re finished. I like a neat crime.”</p><p class="">Gwen let her mouth fall open. “You… You’re like…”</p><p class="">“It’s like reverse CSI. Only, I don’t get very fancy. Too much drama leads to too many mistakes. Keep things simple and you’ll not have problems.” As he explained, he started the car and left the neighborhood sleeping in his wake.</p><p class="">Gwen tried to form words, but, instead, all she could think of was Dorthea lying on the floor next to a puddle of poisoned scotch. She looked out the window and forced herself to take deep calming breaths. Damn Jack Harkness for forcing her on this trip. Damn him, the heartless bastard.</p><p class="">Scenery rolled by her, hidden by the darkness. Ianto did not speak. He adjusted the radio to a comforting classical station. The haunting violin echoed through the car. Ianto turned into another neighborhood, this one more run down, and slowed near a flat complex. Gwen looked at him. Ianto seemed to be casing the area like a robber.</p><p class="">“We’ll start there,” he decided, pointed across the street to a collection of overgrown bushes. The bushes grew up through a fence that backed onto the road. Rubbish had blown into the branches. The area was far from any streetlight. Ianto exited the vehicle and opened the boot again. This time, Gwen followed him listlessly. All her thoughts were cursing Captain Jack Harkness.</p><p class="">Ianto removed one of the evidence bags and a foldable shovel from the boot and Gwen felt her stomach rebel again. They walked into the shadows. Ianto looked at the bushes from multiple angles before selecting a space and shoving the spade into the earth. Gwen watched, detachedly, as he dug a hole, slid on another pair of gloves, and then dumped Janine Maxwell’s Mary Jane shoes into it. Ianto carefully covered the hole and made it look as if someone had taken time to ensure it would not be disturbed.</p><p class="">They returned to the Audi, and this time, took out the second evidence bag and a slim jim car door opener. Gwen was unsurprised that they approached a 1980’s dark blue Fiat in the car park. Ianto slid the metal into the window seal, looked around, and then popped the car’s lock. He worked quickly, selecting a few strands of the girl’s hair and dropping them onto the car’s floorboard. He opened the boot and pulled up the fake floor, allowing access to the spare tyre. There, he dropped the remaining roll of twine—the twine that Ianto and Owen had tied Janine’s corpse to the chair with. Thus finished, he closed the boot, relocked the car, and returned to his own car.</p><p class="">Gwen felt like she was floating outside of her body. The drive to the Hub was silent; even the classical music station played songs so soft that often Gwen heard no music at all. Ianto parked, and led the way back into the Hub.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh I did so love to write Owen. I love that gruff son-of-a-bitch.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="">The Hub hummed. The mix of water pouring off the sculpture and the buzz of computers created a strange background noise that warded off the eerie silence that could lurk there. Jack’s boots rang out heavy steps on the metal grating above them. Ianto glanced upward and nodded at his boss before headed to Autopsy. Jack descended.</p><p class="">“How are you holding up, Gwen?” he asked, touching her shoulder.</p><p class="">Gwen jumped away from his touch like she had been scalded. Somehow, knowing that this man had condoned that night’s activities made him feel like a stranger. This was not the Jack Harkness that she knew.</p><p class="">“I could use a hand with the body!” Ianto called, his voice echoing up from Autopsy.</p><p class="">Gwen scurried down to him. At least she could give Janine a little respect, she thought. She tried to convince herself that she was not fleeing from this unknown side of Jack. Ianto had cut the ties away from Janine’s hands and feet and was easing her onto a gurney. The ties had left bruising on her little wrists, another clue for the case. Gwen reached out to grab Janine’s head and steady it from impacting with the gurney.</p><p class="">“Gwen!” Jack barked. “Gloves! Unless you’d like to be implicated in the kidnapping and murder of a young girl?”</p><p class="">Gwen jumped back in surprise. She had only wanted to help by offering Janine’s corpse some comfort! Ianto zipped the girl into a body bag and rolled the gurney toward the service lift with access to the parking garage. He pushed the button for down and removed his gloves. He sagged against the wall by the rubbish bin.</p><p class="">            “What do you have left?” Jack queried. He folded his arms across his chest. From his vantage point on the steps above them, he looked like a supervisor looking down his nose at them. His tone, however, was gentle.</p><p class="">            Gwen looked between the two. Ianto wiped at his eyes, tiredly. “Um… video footage—I mean CCTV, body dump, leads in CRIMNET…”</p><p class="">            Jack looked sympathetically at Ianto. Gwen felt her gut twist. “Alibi for the perp?”</p><p class="">            Ianto nodded wearily. “That too.” He started up the steps.</p><p class="">            As Ianto neared, Jack grabbed him about the waist and squeezed him. “Right, you handle the video and the CRIMNET leads, Gwen and I’ll do the perp’s alibi, then we’ll dump the kid on the ride home.” Ianto nodded in agreement, rested his forehead on Jack’s shoulder for a brief moment and then headed up into the main area of the Hub.</p><p class="">            “C’mon Gwen! We have some records to falsify!” Gwen glared at Jack. Did he have to sound so excited about the opportunity?</p><p class="">            Jack bounded to Gwen’s workstation. As he sat in her chair, he adjusted the height and lumbar support. Gwen resisted the urge to scream—she hated when people messed with her chair. He would be seated there, what? five minutes? It would take her at least an hour to get her seat comfortable again. Jack ignored the tension radiating off of her and with deft fingers toggled through CRIMNET’s file on Smeeth.</p><p class="">            Jack hummed thoughtfully. “He works as a ‘parts picker’ at an internet-based refrigerator parts supplier.” With a few more keystrokes, perhaps more than Tosh would have used, but still less than Gwen herself, and Jack was hacking into the company’s employee files. “When did Maxwell go missing, according to our falsified case?”</p><p class="">            Gwen looked at him in confusion, with wide eyes. “Oh! Um, three days ago?”</p><p class="">            She knew that Jack was not impressed with this answer. Regardless, he accessed Smeeth’s work record and quickly changed some numbers so it appeared that Smeeth had not shown up for work those days. With a few more mouse clicks, Jack opened the company’s work-based CCTV and erased the footage for those days.</p><p class="">            “What happens if they have a backup file?” Gwen asked, watching Jack hit the “esc” key with exaggerated force.</p><p class="">            Jack grinned dangerously. “Oh, I’m sure they do. We’ll break in tomorrow and steal that tape. We still have to retcon Smeeth’s fellow employees.”</p><p class="">            Gwen took an involuntary step backward. “What? Why?”</p><p class="">            Jack tilted his head at her, and then reclined in her chair. It squeaked in protest. “Because Gwen, he was at work in actuality. We have to manipulate memories to match our perp’s lack of alibi.”</p><p class="">            Gwen straightened, growing in frustration and anger. “How often do we do this to people?”</p><p class="">            Jack rested his elbow on the arm of her chair and leaned his chin on his fist. “What? Frame innocent criminals? Erase civilians’ memories? Save the world? Fantasize about Ianto sandwiched between me and a busty blonde?”</p><p class="">            Gwen huffed. Jack couldn’t stay serious for long, and it was infuriating. “All of it!” Jack seemed to be ready to elaborate on the idea of his ménage de trois, so Gwen elaborated. “All the Torchwood stuff! It’s not right, Jack! That man—“ she pointed at Smeeth’s open employee file on her screen, “could have cleaned up his life! What if he’s studying to be priest or something?”</p><p class="">            “Well then I’d assume that he’s changed his targets from little girls in nice dress shoes to little boys in altar boy robes.”</p><p class="">            “Jack! He’s innocent! Janine Maxwell was killed by an alien and we’re not—“</p><p class="">            She was interrupted by Ianto clearing his throat behind her. Jack looked past Gwen at him. “I am sorry to say, sir, that I may be below par.”</p><p class="">            As soon as the words left his mouth Jack was up out of the chair and at Ianto’s side. He squeezed Ianto’s biceps and pulled Ianto in front of him. “Tired?” he asked, and Gwen was again surprised at the degree of tenderness in his tone. Ianto nodded, but he looked as if he was sorry to admit it.</p><p class="">            “Did you get the CCTV file taken care of?” Jack asked, his voice returning to his usual cadence.</p><p class="">            “I cheated and used that cheap excuse of ‘hoodlums spray painting the camera’ that Suzie came up with.”</p><p class="">            Jack grinned. “Created just for these nights. Does the film look plausible?”</p><p class="">            Ianto nodded again. “As far as I can tell.”</p><p class="">Jack released Ianto and clapped his hands together. “Right! Time for a drop then!”</p><p class="">Gwen felt herself quivering with controlled rage. As if framing Smeeth for a crime he did not commit wasn’t bad enough, they were back to talking about dropping a body like it was a mundane event. This was a child. A dead child—which was something totally preventable. If Torchwood had been quicker to that Rift alert, then they could have killed the alien before it took a host! She stormed after Jack and Ianto.</p><p class="">Ianto retrieved the gurney from the lift and rolled it to the SUV, where Jack and Ianto loaded the body bag without a moment of remorse. Tears of anger and frustration pricked at Gwen’s eyes. She clenched her fists and said nothing. She climbed into the back seat and ignored the men in the front.</p><p class="">“The coordinates for the drop are in the GPS,” Ianto explained, sinking into the passenger seat.  Gwen ground her teeth and looked over her shoulder at the nondescript black body bag. It wasn’t a drop. To her a drop suggested slipping an overdue DVD into the slot at the video shop. A drop was leaving goo-stained blouses at the dry cleaner. A drop was not a wrongly killed child in a ditch! Or was it the bay? Gwen realized that she didn’t know where Janine was about to be abandoned.</p><p class="">Jack was steering the SUV through the wakening streets, passing trucks delivering milk and newspapers. Dawn was still a few hours off, but the world was preparing for the new day. Gwen leaned forward and rested her hand on the console between the two front seats.</p><p class="">“Where are we going anyway?” she asked, attempting to sound sweet and curious and not furious.</p><p class="">When Ianto didn’t speak Jack looked over at him, apparently expecting him to make the reply. In the passing street light, Gwen saw Jack’s face soften. He smiled, just a bit. Ianto, it appeared, was asleep. Gwen rolled her eyes. She was tired too, for God’s sakes, but she was still at work!</p><p class="">“I guess we’ll find out when we get there,” Jack replied, and turned as the female voice of the GPS directed him left. “He’s been up for something like 60 hours now,” Jack mused. He glanced back at Ianto.</p><p class="">Gwen frowned. “How?” she asked, her brow furrowed. “We all went home those nights. Didn’t you let him go home, Jack? Are you making him sleep at the Hub so you can get laid, Jack?” Her voice rose with accusation.</p><p class="">Jack caught her eye in the rearview mirror. He looked angry. He didn’t raise his voice, however, when he answered her. “No, Gwen. Someone had to cover up the last three incidents we’ve had this week. That glowing gel that showed up at the university dorm? Remember how it was hypnotizing kids and then absorbing them? Someone had to deal with the mess that got left behind.</p><p class="">“Oh, and then there was the Weevil in Sainsbury’s, you remember? The one that ate all the meat, and then the butcher? There were three witnesses to that, plus internal CCTV and the physical scene to clean up.</p><p class="">“And of course, there was the Gyhjjiop vessel landing sight to deal with. I don’t even know what he did to cover that one up.</p><p class="">“So you see, when you all go home patting yourselves on the back for saving the world, Ianto goes without sleep to make sure that the good civilians of Britain sleep soundly.”</p><p class="">Jack stopped the SUV as he said these words and faced Gwen. His face was stone solid—his “angry boss” face—he never flinched. Gwen looked away. They were parked on a lay by, a trash-filled field next to an industrial park. There were lights in the distance, but the dump spot was dark. Jack put the vehicle into park and opened his door. The cooler night air made Ianto stir. He awoke with a sharp inhale.</p><p class="">Following Jack’s guilt trip, Gwen wanted to tell him to sleep, but Ianto was out of the SUV before she could find the words. Each man took a side of the body bag and they hauled it down the incline beside the road. Gwen trailed after them, her stomach rolling as she thought about leaving Janine out here in the dark. Sea gulls and magpies—the scavengers of nature—would come with the morning light. She shivered as she imagined the autopsy photographs of a bird-pecked Janine Maxwell. The body bag unzipped.</p><p class="">Gwen covered her mouth with her hand in surprise. At some point when she wasn’t looking, Ianto had wrapped the body in black plastic bin bags. She was horrified anew.</p><p class="">Jack and Ianto stationed the body in some high weeds and then quickly moved back to the SUV. The empty body bag slapped against Ianto’s leg as he walked. Gwen stood frozen, her eyes locked on the abandoned body. It could be days before anyone found Janine. Jack forced Gwen to begin to walk.</p><p class="">“We should tip the police,” she demanded. She was still unable to look away from the copse of tall weeds.</p><p class="">“We should sleep,” Jack clarified. He pushed her toward the back seat of the SUV. “It’s nearly four. Do you want to crash in the guest room or go home?”</p><p class="">Jack was in the SUV with the door closed before she processed the question. Gwen entered the vehicle slowly. She could have a long shower with her own shampoo and clean clothes—or the chance to see where Jack lived.</p><p class="">Well, Rhys was used to waking up alone anyway wasn’t he?</p><p class="">Gwen was a little shocked with Jack guided the SUV into an older residential district that was slowly being retrofitted with cafes and trendy clothes. He parked before a decent sized cottage with an explosive garden. Even in the gray light of pre-dawn, Gwen could see that flowers and shrubs thrived. A blackberry bush scraped her arm as she passed through the gate. Ianto staggered ahead, and leaned against the doorframe as Jack unlocked the door. They both seemed grateful once the door opened.</p><p class="">Gwen wasn’t sure what she expected, but she was met with antique furniture grouped around a television that would have made Rhys cry with greed. As Gwen looked around, Ianto moved behind Jack and to take his greatcoat. It was tossed over the back of the couch. Ianto’s suit coat joined it moments later. Jack grabbed a banana off the kitchen counter and shoved it into Ianto’s hand.</p><p class="">“Eat that. Take a shower. Turn off the alarm—I’ll see you at noon.”</p><p class="">Ianto rolled his eyes, but the action seemed to lack any energy. “Coming to bed?”</p><p class="">Jack shrugged. “I’ll get Gwen settled.”</p><p class="">Ianto nodded. “Clean towels are,” he looked baffled for a moment and then gave a vague wave to the kitchen, “I put them in the wash days ago. I don’t remember if they got dried.”</p><p class="">Jack gave a strangled sound. “I have been capable of laundry for years before your parents were born. Banana. Shower. Bed.”</p><p class="">Ianto saluted sloppily at Jack with the banana and staggered toward the stairs. Gwen shifted uncomfortably. She felt a little guilty that Jack wanted time alone with her right under Ianto’s nose. Jack entered the kitchen and filled the kettle. She trailed after him, but paused in the doorway. The weight of the door was pushing her into the kitchen, like an omen, but she was hesitant.</p><p class="">“Come here, Gwen, have a seat.” Well, the door must have been a sign, after all. Gwen settled herself at the table in the kitchen nook and watched Jack collect two mugs and spoon tea into each. For a split second, she imagined this was usual: her Jack making her tea in their kitchen.</p><p class="">Then Jack moved just a certain way and she had a flashback to Ianto slicing open pills and distilling them in liquor. Her voice was cold. “How can you ask him to do that? He’s lost so much.”</p><p class="">Jack’s movement stuttered and he bowed his head. “I know.” His voice was laden with sadness. “I wish I could keep the ugliness from him, but he’s the only person strong enough to do that sort of work.”</p><p class="">Gwen slapped the table. “He’s so young! It’s horrible! Get someone else to do it, Jack!”</p><p class="">He turned to face her. “Are you volunteering, Gwen?”</p><p class="">She was aghast. “No! Of course not! That was a child!”</p><p class="">The kettle bubbled angrily and then clicked off. Jack ignored it. He was watching her with keen interest.</p><p class="">“Yes, Gwen. It’s always a child or a mother or a fluffy puppy. It’s messy, it’s horrific, and it’s our reality.”</p><p class="">“It shouldn’t be.”</p><p class="">Jack rolled his shoulders in frustration and pulled his braces down. He turned from her and poured water into each mug. He joined her at the table and set a steaming mug before her.</p><p class="">“Well, it is. If you don’t like the protocol, take it up with the Queen.”</p><p class="">Gwen glared at Jack and then watched the way the steam swirled upward.</p><p class="">“Everyone hates clean up, Gwen, but it must be done. Ianto is good at it. He does it because he knows it’s important.” Jack pulled two pills out of his breast pocket and laid one before Gwen. “It’s a sedative. Nightmares are common after body disposal.” Jack’s eyes were haunted. He dropped the second pill into the tea before him. He stirred it until it dissolved, then stood from the table. The mug was almost dwarfed by his hand.</p><p class="">“I’ll show you to the guest room.” Gwen hastily dropped the sedative into her own tea and stirred it quickly. Jack led her up the stairs to darkened hall. The shower was still running, she noted as they past a closed door. The guest room was homey, but Gwen suddenly felt uncomfortable. On the bedside table were two photos, one black and white of Jack and a young woman, and the other of Ianto and an unconverted Lisa. There were no haunted smiles in either photograph. Gwen heard the water to the shower shut off. She tried to tear her eyes away from the framed photos.</p><p class="">            Jack pointed to the steamer trunk at the foot of the bed. “Extra blankets are there and towels are in the airing cupboard. Bath is down the hall.”</p><p class="">            A door opened and Gwen heard the floorboards groan as Ianto joined them. He rubbed his hair with a towel. He was only wearing pajama bottoms. Gwen scanned his torso. He was hairier than Rhys—she hated body hair. If she were sleeping with him, she’d make him wax. Jack seemed immune. He hugged Ianto around the shoulders and pulled him close as he handed Ianto the mug he’d carried from the kitchen.</p><p class="">            “I spiked your tea,” he admitted and kissed Ianto’s temple.</p><p class="">            Ianto slouched and seemed to fold himself into Jack’s embrace. “Good thing. I think I’d be up all night thinking. I keep feeling like I’m forgetting something from this case—I think I missed a huge detail.” His comment was muffled by Jack’s neck, but Jack seemed to comprehend him well enough. Jealousy bloomed in Gwen’s belly.</p><p class="">            “Whatever it is will keep.” Jack turned his attention to Gwen, as if he could sense her emotions. Gwen squirmed.</p><p class="">            “Get some rest, Gwen. We’ll see you in the morning.” And, with that, he guided Ianto out of the room and closed the door behind them.</p><p class="">            Gwen stripped down and slid between the sheets. She buried her nose in the pillow seeking out Jack’s smell—but she only found the scent of laundry softener and tea. Her own mug was empty and she was grateful when the sedative began to pull her under into sleep.</p><p class="">            She woke up disoriented and feeling a bit drugged, which was common for her with a sleep aid. After several attempts she drug herself from the bed and down the hall to the toilet. Yesterday’s clothes felt dirty—she’d covered up murders in them—and she began to rethink the wisdom of not going home the night before.  She made her way down the steps and rubbed at her eyes. Her mascara flaked under her fingers.</p><p class="">            The smell of coffee lured her past the telly’s talking heads and she ignored Ianto perched before the screen. Jack grinned at her over a cup of coffee when she entered the kitchen.</p><p class="">            “Morning, Gwen! Well—afternoon, but it works.” He poured her a cup of coffee and smiled brightly at her. She felt her insides melt, just like any other time he smiled at her.</p><p class="">            From the other room, Ianto called. “Jack! You’d better come see this!”</p><p class="">            Ianto’s “work tone” brought Gwen completely awake and she chased Jack into the lounge. Ianto was standing, still only in pajama bottoms, in front of the telly. His coffee was abandoned on the table before him and he was watching the news raptly. Gwen looked around his shoulder to the report.</p><p class="">            A frightened looking woman was speaking to a reporter. “—Just went mad! They jumped out of their cages—like they climbed the cages, it was mad! —Tore out Terrell’s eyes and, oh God! Ginny!”</p><p class="">            The story cut back to the front of a non-descript building and a reporter before it. “It appears that this mutated strain of rabies is highly contagious. Pet owners are being advised to watch their pets and look for the following signs—“</p><p class="">            Ianto turned around and blocked the television screen. “Pets at the local shelter are developing a ‘mutated case of rabies’ which acts nothing like rabies but does act like the spawning behavior of a—“</p><p class="">            “Gyhjjiop.” Jack finished for him, and gulped the rest of his coffee. “Call the others, get dressed, we leave for the shelter in five.”</p><p class="">            Ianto was heading for the upstairs before Jack had finished speaking. Gwen grimaced at her attire, she had hoped to change. “Are we going to Hub first?”</p><p class="">            Jack looked at her in confusion. “Owen and Tosh can meet us at the scene. If the Gyhjjiop has bred we don’t have time to spare to drive over and get them.”</p><p class="">            Ianto’s dress shoes beat a tattoo down the stairs. He was dressed, immaculately, as if by magic. Gwen wished she’d timed him. Somehow, even his hair was done. Gwen glared. Ianto grabbed Jack’s greatcoat and helped him into it without any verbal communication.</p><p class="">            On the drive to the animal shelter, Gwen noted that there was mud on her shoe. She wondered if that happened when they were dropping Janine in the field. If that were the case, then the police would find a nice Gwen-sized shoe print at the crime scene. Great. This was the start of a beautiful day.</p><p class="">            Owen and Tosh were at the scene when they pulled into the car park at a dangerous speed. Tosh was scanning the outside building with her PDA.</p><p class="">            “Jack,” she reported, “I’ve got no Rift energy.”</p><p class="">            Jack did not look surprised. “We missed a Gyhjjiop. Or the Maxwell case spawned before she went home.”</p><p class="">            “Janine wasn’t a Gyhjjiop!” Gwen snapped, stubbornly.</p><p class="">            Jack didn’t even to bother to shrug in response. He marched toward the crime scene. Ianto approached the lead detective and began speaking to her, while the rest of the team entered the shelter. When the constables on the scene saw them approach, they sneered in disgust.</p><p class="">            “Special ops are needed for more and more animal attacks,” one noted. Gwen was sure that she’d seen him at a Weevil mauling before.</p><p class="">            Owen, who apparently was in a happy mood that morning, smirked. “Yep, it’s a chemical agent that got dumped into some pet food processing factory. Problem, as far as we can tell, is that, one, it’s a chemical warfare agent, and, two, the pet food plant is a door down from the kipper-canning factory. But, don’t worry, mate, so far the only side affect that the animals seem to have is homicide. I wouldn’t fret.”</p><p class="">            The constables both looked frightened, but Owen was positively gleeful.</p><p class="">            “That was—“ Gwen began to chastise him as they walked away.</p><p class="">            “Oh, don’t start, darling. I at least changed clothes this morning, and based on my current situation,” he paused to take his non-existent pulse, “that’s saying something.” He looked pointedly at her outfit.</p><p class="">            Jack strode into the shelter proper and pushed past the multiple police officers. He walked through a door labeled “DOGS” with his team chasing him. The first animal they came across charged the chain link door immediately. Its lips snarled and then began hissing in a distinct speech pattern. Without hesitation, Jack shot it in the head.</p><p class="">            “Destroy all the animals here. Owen, you hate cats, right? Start there. Gwen and I’ll finish up here. Tosh, find Ianto and start the interviews. Find out when the infection began. I want the animal that hosted the Gyhjjiop isolated. We need to track its movements.”</p><p class="">            “Because that will be simple,” Owen offered, bitingly. “I know so many dogs who give directions.”</p><p class="">            Jack glared. “Work to do.” The team scattered to their tasks.</p><p class="">            Unsurprisingly, there was outrage from the others on scene. The police moaned about the loss of another case and the animal shelter workers were in hysterics about the senseless death. After two interviews, Tosh requested that she and Gwen change places. Murder, she could compartmentalize, she admitted, as long as it was alien-related. People drove her to drink.</p><p class="">            Gwen offered the young shelter worker a tissue and then waited, eyes wide, for the young woman to continue speaking.</p><p class="">            “It was just that one cat, I thought,” she cried, wiping her nose. “It was so young, though! I don’t understand.”</p><p class="">            “Why don’t you tell me about that cat,” Gwen encouraged.</p><p class="">            “An orange tabby was found yesterday. Had tags and everything—a kitten really. We called the owners, but we heard nothing from them. The kitten, his name is Freddy, he would just twitch. At first, we called the vet cause we thought he had a seizure thing or something—but then he just started hissing and I swear it was like he was talking! Then, after a couple of hours, all the cats in the Lost unit were hissing like that. And climbing the walls!”</p><p class="">            “Could you take me to Freddy?” Gwen asked, trying to be friendly to the poor lost, sad lamb. The girl nodded.</p><p class="">            The Lost unit was much smaller than the space for pets available adoption. Once the door opened, the girl and Gwen were assaulted by the hissing and spiting of the Gyhjjiopian language. Several cats climbed the bars of their kennels and some reached out into the aisle. The shelter worker did not move from the door. Her tears renewed with strength and she pointed at a mid-sized kitten on a lower level. Gwen moved closer. She saw the tag on Freddy’s collar.</p><p class="">            All at once, she felt memories sliding into place. It was like seeing Suzie and the Life Knife as she broke retcon for the first time. Things were moving into clarity.</p><p class="">            “Oh shit.” And she ran to find Jack.</p><p class="">            Jack was in the main hallway with Owen and Ianto. Gwen noted that the gunshots had stopped.</p><p class="">            “The cat, the cat that infected the shelter was the Maxwell’s cat,” she gasped out when the three men looked at her.</p><p class="">            “What?” Jack and Owen asked.</p><p class="">            Ianto denied it. “No. I saw no evidence of a cat at the Maxwell’s house.”</p><p class="">            Gwen was adamant. “I did! The cat pan was the in the bathroom!”</p><p class="">            Ianto straightened. “And you didn’t say anything?” Gwen was a little surprised that he didn’t sound upset. He just seemed to be gathering information. Jack, on the other hand, looked furious.</p><p class="">            “Freddy was in photographs in the hallway too! I just remembered when I saw him in the cage,” she continued.</p><p class="">            “Bloody hell,” Owen cursed and he turned his back to her in frustration.</p><p class="">            “How did the cat get out of the house?” Ianto asked, still not angry. “I didn’t see a cat door.”</p><p class="">            Gwen considered this. “I think there may have been a window open in one of the bedrooms. The hall was cold.”</p><p class="">            Jack opened his mouth and took a step forward, but Ianto held up his hand. Jack closed his mouth, but didn’t look like he would stay quiet for long.</p><p class="">            “Gwen,” Ianto began slowly, “we were at the Maxwell house for nearly an hour. We controlled every element of that scene that could possibly be controlled. Please explain to me why you didn’t think either of these pieces of information was important.”</p><p class="">            Gwen shifted her weight. She felt Owen staring at her, waiting for an explanation.</p><p class="">            “I figured that the cat was hiding. And I figured that the window was part of the set up.”</p><p class="">            Ianto blinked at her. “Did you see me go down the hall to open a window?”</p><p class="">            Gwen looked away. “And, beyond that, did you miss Jack’s briefing when he said that the Gyhjjiop can take any breathing organism as a host?”</p><p class="">            Gwen threw up her hands. “Fine! I made a mistake!”</p><p class="">            “You make a lot of those PC Cooper,” Owen snapped. “Sex gas, anyone? ‘I have to get Rhys back,’ ring any bells?”</p><p class="">            “Owen,” Ianto snapped, “leave it.”</p><p class="">            Owen faced off with Ianto, but Jack shoved Owen toward the cat area and pulled Ianto in the opposite direction. “You have jobs to do. Get to it. Gwen, with me.” His voice was gruff, but not in sorrow. Gwen huffed and stormed after her Captain.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: The writer is and was a high school English teacher who made up vague science for this to sound good.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="">Jack led her outside to the side of the SUV where he spun on his heel to face her. “You are going to call the A&amp;E where the shelter workers were admitted and find out what symptoms they are showing. If any of them are blinking rapidly, hissing, baring their teeth, or generally acting like Gyhjjiop then order them into quarantine. Can you handle that?” He seemed to be barely suppressing his rage. Gwen was irritated. She’d made mistakes before, why was he upset now?</p><p class="">            “Don’t you need me in at the crime scene?” she asked, pointing back toward the door.</p><p class="">            Jack stared at her, nearly emotionlessly. “Call the hospital.” And he returned to the shelter.</p><p class="">            Gwen threw herself into the passenger seat without closing the door and began making her phone call. It was difficult to get through because the A&amp;E staff was used to dealing with “Doctor Owen Harper” and they were more concerned about his wellbeing than answering her questions.</p><p class="">            “Yes,” she repeated, her eyes closing in frustration, “Dr. Harper is just fine. He’s just unable to ring you just yet—no, no, he’s really ok—look, I just need some answers about two—no, he won’t ring you about this case—no, because you’re talking to me about it—“</p><p class="">            Tosh slid into the backseat as Jack started the engine of the SUV. Gwen shot a confused look at Jack, who only motioned for her to close the door. They were on the road before she could belt herself into her seat. She continued to argue with the hospital administration until Tosh leaned around the seat and tapped Gwen on the shoulder. Gwen handed over the mobile when Tosh motioned for it.</p><p class="">            “Hello, yes, sorry, this is Doctor Toshiko Sato--yes, Dr. Harper’s superior. I’m calling about some newly admitted patients--yes—“</p><p class="">            Gwen tuned Tosh out and glared at Jack. “You knew that would happen, didn’t you?”</p><p class="">            Jack swung the SUV into a wide arc and down into the shadows of the Hub’s car park. “Owen spoke with the vet, he’s been scratched.”</p><p class="">            “No!” Gwen gasped, alarmed. “Then a Gyhjjiop will infect him!”</p><p class="">            “No,” Jack corrected, sliding the SUV between two parking lines, “a Gyhjjiop already has. His conscience is dying and the parasitic host is taking control. I assume that most of those shelter workers are infected as well. Dogs bite. Cats scratch. Gyhjjiop bred.”</p><p class="">            Behind them, Tosh snapped Gwen’s mobile shut. “Right, both of the shelter workers at the A&amp;E are showing stage one signs. I’ve put them into a controlled room, but Jack, it looks like the morgue has lost the dead shelter worker’s body.”</p><p class="">            Jack’s hand was on the door handle, but he didn’t move to open it. “You think the corpse is mobile?”</p><p class="">            Tosh grimaced. “It sounds that way.”</p><p class="">            Jack swung the door open and began barking orders. “Find the corpse’s identity. Locate who came in contact with the corpse. Gwen and I’ll go interview those folks.” Jack tapped his comm. unit. “Owen, yeah, we’ve got two new cases at the hospital.”</p><p class="">Owen replied over the public channel. “Excellent.”</p><p class="">“Tosh thinks all the shelter workers are infected.”</p><p class="">Owen sighed. “Yeah, well I know they are. Right before Teaboy and I headed to your fridge parts worker’s job, the receptionist started freaky blinking. Looked like she’s having a fit and a constable ran over to help her.”</p><p class="">Jack’s fists clenched. “Was the PC infected?”</p><p class="">“Nope, Jonesy works fast. He convinced the five other workers and the vet to go to hospital. I let Leeann in A&amp;E know they’re coming; even the paramedics are in full HAZMAT suits. Should I head over there after this little clean up?”</p><p class="">“I need this thing contained, Owen,” Jack ordered, his eyes seeking out Gwen and locking on her face. He had his boss face on again. Gwen sighed. It wasn’t like it was her fault.</p><p class="">“In other news,” Jack continued, “it seems that the dead shelter worker—“</p><p class="">“Virginia Overstreet,” Tosh interjected. “29 years old, short brown hair, has a tattoo of a teardrop under her left eye.”</p><p class="">“Miss Overstreet, it would appear,” Jack continued, “has walked out of a morgue. This is getting out of hand kids.”</p><p class="">Tosh continued informing the team of what she’d learned. Gwen wrung her hands. “Overstreet was attacked by an orange tabby cat—“</p><p class="">“That’s Freddy!” Gwen exclaimed.</p><p class="">“—this morning as she was feeding the animals. The cat ripped out her eyes before going for her tongue. Her face, according to the report, is scratched beyond recognition. There are no photos.”</p><p class="">“Thank Christ for that,” Owen breathed, sounding like he was right behind Gwen’s shoulder.</p><p class="">“Well, she shouldn’t be too hard to locate then,” Ianto said, sunnily. “I have a report coming in about a zombie woman walking around the Plass.”</p><p class="">At this, Tosh pulled up the police scanner reports on another screen. “It doesn’t appear that she’s attacked anyone yet!”</p><p class="">“Good, Gwen, with me!” Jack ordered, upholstering his Webley and running for the invisible lift. “Tosh stay on the trail of the body! Ianto, I need that shelter cleaned up! Owen, neutralize the cases at the hospital!”</p><p class="">Gwen jumped onto the paving stone as it ascended, and looked at Jack with annoyance.</p><p class="">“You could have waited for me!” Jack had no reply.</p><p class="">The Plass was filled with tourists and business people. Mothers with prams and toddling children swarmed with sea gulls. Vendors shouted, advertising their wares. And there, beyond the Millennium Center, next to the bus depot, a woman staggered. Her limbs jerked, like she was having a fit, but overall, she was making good time. For whatever reason, the Gyhjjiop ignored the potential prey around it, and continued to stagger forward. A man, who was talking animatedly on his mobile phone, stepped out of its way and watched the Gyhjjiop’s progress with an annoyed confusion.</p><p class="">“A bit early to be drinking,” he commented. Gwen and Jack charged forward.</p><p class="">“What’s the plan?” Gwen yelled, as she struggled to keep pace with Jack.</p><p class="">“Grab it. Isolated it. Kill it.”</p><p class="">Gwen sputtered and slowed, but Jack increased his pace and grabbed the Gyhjjiop by the arm.</p><p class="">“Miss Overstreet, I presume. I never much cared for tattoos myself,” Jack commented, as he motioned for Gwen to grab the opposite arm. “But then again, who am I to judge?”</p><p class="">Virginia Overstreet, or rather the Gyhjjiop, snarled and hissed. Gwen was revolted. Aliens were so horrid! They destroyed whatever humanity was left in the average person. Gwen truly believed in the inner good of her fellow man. She was disappointed to find that aliens lacked the same inner goodness.</p><p class="">Jack led them toward the invisible lift, and once there, he pressed the barrel of his Webley against Overstreet’s forehead and pulled the trigger. Gwen yelled in surprise.</p><p class="">“Jack! You didn’t even give her a chance!”</p><p class="">Jack looked at the splatter of brain matter and blood on the concrete next to the paving stone. He let Virginia’s lifeless body drop onto the ground and rehostered his gun. He pulled back his coat sleeve and pushed a series of buttons on his wriststrap. The lift descended.</p><p class="">“Jack Harkness! I’m talking to you! Everyone should have a chance to live!” Gwen protested.</p><p class="">Jack rounded on Gwen and seemed to be preparing to argue with her. Instead, he reached up and toggled his comms unit.</p><p class="">“The animated corpse is contained,” Jack reported to his team.</p><p class="">Below them, Tosh was typing frantically at her station. Gwen watched her as they lowered to the main floor of the Hub. Something whirled from the printer and Tosh jumped up, pushed her glasses into her hair, nabbed the papers from the printer, and dashed upstairs without a word. Gwen moved to Tosh’s station in curiosity.</p><p class="">The document claimed to be an announcement from Comic Relief warning locals that they would be filming over the course of three days. In a corner screen, CCTV of the Plass played, probably as Tosh monitored Overstreet’s progress. Gwen noted the Tosh was on the Plass taping the notices to a light post.</p><p class="">Without asking for help, Jack slung Virginia Overstreet’s body over his shoulder and headed for Owen’s Autopsy. Gwen squeaked and chased after him to help. The poor woman deserved to be cared for in the same way that Gwen had wanted to help Janine Maxwell. Jack ignored her, and dumped the woman on the table without much concern. Gwen opened her mouth to snap at Jack, but he toggled his comms again.</p><p class="">“Report!” he commanded.</p><p class="">Immediately, Ianto’s voice echoed over the comms unit. “I am incinerating the bodies.” He paused to cough. “I have also hacked into the RSPCA and modified the reports about this particular strain of rabies.” As he continued, Gwen thought he sounded slightly amused. “I figure I have the right to do so since I am the one who invented it in the first place last year. Also, I have posted a warning to the Ministry of Health about the symptoms. Any hospitals or GP who see the signs will call the landline at my desk for a report.”</p><p class="">“Good,” Jack answered.</p><p class="">“I have a concern, however,” Ianto continued, and Jack closed his eyes at this. Gwen bit her lip. What else could happen?</p><p class="">“I see mouse traps here around the animal food and such.”</p><p class="">“Shit,” Jack swore, quietly. “Do you see any evidence of mice in the traps?”</p><p class="">“I’m investigating now, sir.”</p><p class="">Jack nodded, and crossed his arms across his chest. “Owen?”</p><p class="">Behind them, the cog door rolled open with its usual alarm and light show. Tosh hurried into the Hub and back to her desk. She pulled her glasses down, without even looking at Jack or Gwen.</p><p class="">Owen began his report. “I have all of the exposed persons in quarantine. I have interviewed all the A&amp;E staff… I don’t think any of them have been infected, but the staff is on alert for new cases.” Owen sighed. “Most of the shelter workers have transitioned into stage two. I have begun to administer…well, they’ll go peacefully. The hospital staff hasn’t caught on just yet.”</p><p class="">“Gyhjjiop can fight most forms of injection, Owen. A shot to the head is best,” Jack informed him, and Gwen gasped.  Jack looked at her in annoyance. “I explained this before.”</p><p class="">“Yes,” Owen replied, sounding annoyed, “but how exactly am I supposed to administer that ‘treatment’ in a hospital, Jack? I figured I could transport the corpses and then bang!”</p><p class="">Gwen jumped with Owen’s faux-gunshot. Jack nodded, however. “Good work, Doctor Harper.”</p><p class="">“Owen?” Tosh interjected, pulling up a police report on a far screen. “You need to retcon a morgue technician, Samantha Mills. Tell her the body was transferred to Franklin Mortuary.”</p><p class="">“Sure thing,” Owen confirmed.</p><p class="">Tosh cleared her throat politely, and then began her report. “The walking corpse has been covered as a TV stunt. I have placed a series of notices on the Quay regarding the filming. I have phoned in an explanation to the police; they were annoyed, but upon checking, found all the filming permits to be in perfect order. They have apologized.” Tosh smiled, and she looked a little predatory. “I have covered the corpse’s paperwork at the hospital, and according to the records, Overstreet was transferred with no trouble.”</p><p class="">“Ugh, Tosh,” Owen interrupted, “I just doped Mills’ tea and she took the new story without trouble, but she says that a janitor—Jim Crews—also saw the corpse walking.”</p><p class="">Without breaking a sweat, Tosh accessed the hospital records and drew up Crews’ file. “I’d say leave it,” she advised, looking back at Jack for support. “He has a history of mental illness and delusion.”</p><p class="">Jack nodded his agreement. Gwen ground her teeth. Another life compromised because of Torchwood.</p><p class="">“I have alerted the news stations to issue a warning to any people who visited the animal shelter since the Gyhjjiop was brought in. They should visit their GP if they were scratched while visiting.” Tosh concluded.</p><p class="">“That is, of course, if they’re not fully transitioned,” Owen quipped.</p><p class="">“They’re people!” Gwen argued, frustrated at Owen’s attitude.</p><p class="">Tosh pulled her glasses off and chewed on one of the earpieces.  “I have placed the shelter itself under quarantine, orders of the Ministry of Health.”</p><p class="">“Right,” Jack said, clapping his hands. “Good work people. Gwen, I need to know how that infected cat was brought into the shelter. Owen, do not let those people transition into stage three. That is an order. Tosh, plant some money into Robert Smeeth’s coworkers accounts—make it look like a cash deposit, with a money trail. People, we don’t have time to visit Smeeth’s work, so make it look like he paid them for an alibi. Ianto, how goes the mouse hunt?”</p><p class="">“I’ve found a hole into the exterior, sir.”</p><p class="">Jack stiffened. Gwen, who was walking to her desk, froze.</p><p class="">Ianto sounded weary. “I have not found any infected mice in the traps, but who is to say about those in the walls or wherever.”</p><p class="">Jack moved to Owen’s station and began a search for a map of the area around the shelter. “It’s an industrial area, maybe we’ll get lucky.”</p><p class="">“Yes,” Ianto replied, sarcastically, “perhaps only the rats will be infected, and not the people.”</p><p class="">Jack looked up from the computer screen and made eye contact with Gwen. She scurried back to her desk and began to access the shelter’s records. Tosh pushed back from her desk and spun in her chair to face Jack.</p><p class="">“What if we could somehow locate the Gyhjjiop with a program?”</p><p class="">Jack braced his hands on Owen’s workstation. “What do you have in mind?”</p><p class="">Owen chimed in from the hospital. “There is difference in the way the brain transfers electrical charges when the body transitions into stage two.”</p><p class="">Tosh grinned. “So we need a transportable Electroencephalography machine!”</p><p class="">Gwen leaned back in her chair. “A what?”</p><p class="">“An EEG machine,” Owen explained, tiredly, “but it would need programmed to locate only a certain pattern, Tosh. No one has mastered that yet.”</p><p class="">“Well, it’s a good job I’m a genius then, isn’t it?” she retorted and began pull up research on EEG machines.</p><p class="">Jack grinned, starting to relax. Gwen smiled also, and returned to the records before her. Jack always doubted them, but they were a brilliant team.</p><p class="">Then the landline on Ianto’s desk began to ring. Jack’s smile fell away. He moved to Ianto’s station and lifted the phone from the cradle.</p><p class="">“Ministry of Health,” he intoned, with a Scottish accent. “This is Jack speaking, how can I help?”</p><p class="">Jack continued to speak to the person on the line, with a variety of “hmms” and “yes” before putting the caller on hold.</p><p class="">“Owen,” he said, toggling his comm unit, “we’ve got another case.”</p><p class="">Gwen turned back to her computer screen and opened another record, “I’ve got him!”</p><p class="">Jack looked at her curiously. “Vajra Patel, a good Samaritan, dropped off Freddy the cat.”</p><p class="">At Gwen announcement, Tosh’s fingers flew and a profile for Patel appeared on one of her screens. “A computer analyst from Pontyclun. His mother lives in the Maxwell’s neighborhood.”</p><p class="">“Yep,” Jack replied, not sounding surprised, “and his wife just had him admitted to Royal Glamorgan Hospital.” He waved the telephone in his hand.</p><p class="">            Gwen sunk into her chair. Jack announced that he was transferring the call to Owen’s comms, before returning to the caller. He made some pleasantries before assuaging the caller that Doctor Harper was the specialist of this strain of rabies. As soon as the phone was placed in the telephone’s cradle, Jack exploded.</p><p class="">            “This needs contained! Now!” Thunderclouds hung around his head as he headed to Tosh’s station. “Is this EEG going to work?”</p><p class="">            Tosh rubbed her forehead above the frame of her glasses. “Jack, this is a long shot. It will work, but only if we have a stationary shot of the population.”</p><p class="">            “Not really a viable option for mice, then,” Jack sighed. He squeezed Tosh’s shoulder. “Good thought.”</p><p class="">            She sagged under his hand, “Sorry.”</p><p class="">            “You tried,” he comforted her. Gwen huffed, she wouldn’t turn down a little support from Jack right about now. After all, no one understood him better than her; the same often applied the other way around.</p><p class="">            “All right team,” Jack rallied, speaking to the whole group, “we need a new plan.”</p><p class="">            “Can’t chat now,” Owen growled, “give me ten.” His comms clicked, signifying that he had severed the connection. Gwen grimaced, as she expected Jack to toggle his own unit and rip Owen a new one.</p><p class="">            Instead, he crossed his arms and puffed out his chest. His jaw set. “Ideas, anyone?”</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Fourteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>All right, so writer me in the past got a little snotty with Gwen in this chapter. I should edit that someday.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a long silence. Tosh removed her glasses and slumped in her chair, looking defeated. Gwen tapped her foot. Now would be a good time for one of the others to get something together. She had accessed Virginia Overstreet’s Facebook page and was printing out photographs of the young woman dancing on a table with a drink in hand. This was her job, of course, to remind the others of their fellow citizens’ lives—it was their humanity prompt: here’s what is at stake. Alien rodents were not really her responsibility. Nor was coming up with a brilliant plan to save Cardiff, the UK, or maybe even the world. The others were the so-called geniuses… let them sweat it.</p><p class="">            “Back,” Owen said, his voice sounding tired. “Two more down.”</p><p class="">            Gwen grimaced. She took a breath to lament the gross loss of life. Her train of thought was interrupted.</p><p class="">            “Tosh,” Ianto spoke, slowly, as if just thinking of something, “what is the body temperature of an average rodent?”</p><p class="">            Toshiko scooted back to her monitors, secured her glasses, and accessed a search window.</p><p class="">            “A common mouse runs about 36.9 C…” she read, “but there is warning about environmental factors—“</p><p class="">            “That’s it!” Owen shouted. Gwen grimaced at the volume. “Those infected with stage two are running about fifteen degrees hotter than normal—their brains should be boiling in their skulls.”</p><p class="">            Tosh swung around in her seat and ran for the Archives. “Ianto, where is that heat identifying cannon we used during Operation: Goldenrod?”</p><p class="">            “Do you really expect me to know where every single item is cataloged in the Archives?” Ianto sulked. Before anyone could comment, however, he continued, “Hall F, row indigo, shelf 18. I think it’s toward the back wall on the left.”</p><p class="">            Jack stood a little taller. “You think we’ll be able to check the heat signatures and bag us some ET mice?”</p><p class="">            “Should do,” Ianto and Owen replied simultaneously.</p><p class="">            “Although we’re going to have to keep a constant sweep on the area. We won’t be able to see those newly affected,” Owen continued.</p><p class="">            “I’m going to form some kind of perimeter around the shelter. Somehow,” Ianto stated, sounding mildly put upon. “Any idea how far mice and rats travel?”</p><p class="">            Jack leaned over Tosh’s station and typed quickly. He scanned the selected webpage. “Mice will only go ten to thirty feet, while rats could go one hundred and fifty feet. Let’s keep in mind that’s uninfected.”</p><p class="">            Gwen shivered. She hated the idea of rats or mice. They were gross.</p><p class="">            “But honestly, the Gyhjjiop didn’t go far. The Rift spike was in the Maxwell’s back garden. Let’s hope that is usual for them,” Jack said, rubbing his hands. “How are things, Owen?”</p><p class="">            “Peachy.”</p><p class="">            “Grand,” Jack retorted, his teeth grinding. “Ianto, how goes the containment?”</p><p class="">            “You don’t pay me enough.”</p><p class="">            “Well this is certainly turning into a happy conversation,” Jack commented, looking decidedly put out.</p><p class="">            Tosh ran up the stairs into the main area, her heels clicking quickly on the metal grating.             “I need five minutes,” she concluded, grabbing a spanner and disassembling the outer casing. “Suzie made this; I need to reorient myself with her design.”</p><p class="">            Gwen sneered. Suzie had tried to kill her twice, and she wasn’t over it just yet. She didn’t understand why the others still spoke of her affectionately from time to time. A murderer—someone capable of offing her own father—was not worth thinking of in that manner.</p><p class="">            Jack toggled his comms and headed up into his office, speaking privately to someone. It was probably phone sex with Ianto. Gwen jumped up from her desk, so quickly that her chair rolled out into the walkway on its own. She hurried up the steps to overhear their conversation. Her time in their little house had made her very curious. She was still amazed that their relationship was stable enough to result in them living together. Gwen assumed that meant that Jack had stopped his one-night shags and was only sleeping with Ianto, but who knew?</p><p class="">            Gwen dropped to her knees at the top step and peeked around Jack’s office door. Jack leaned against his desk, almost sitting on it, and was bent nearly in half. He had his hand spread across his forehead and his eyes were closed, as if he were thinking hard or mourning.</p><p class="">            “No, this is just out of control. This whole case has just snowballed,” Jack said, softly, speaking into his comms. He sighed. “I reckon we’ll be sleeping here at the Hub tonight. There’s no chance we’ll be finished by midnight… The Gyhjjiops would avoid traps, mousetraps or otherwise… No, I hope not anyway. Do you see evidence of that?” Jack’s stance straightened, and his hand fell away from his face. “Right.” Jack toggled his unit again, sending him back to the public channel.</p><p class="">            “Owen, do you see any evidence that the Gyhjjiop are beginning to develop logic?” Jack asked. Gwen stood stealthily and snuck back down the stairs. She noted that Tosh turned in surprise at Jack’s question.</p><p class="">            Owen was slow to reply. “I think so. They are beginning to fight the injections.”</p><p class="">            Jack swore. He exited his office with a resounding stomp. “Owen, evacuate those patients.”</p><p class="">            “How the fuck do I do that?” Owen snapped.</p><p class="">            “Figure it out. Tosh let’s get moving,” Jack ordered, leaving no room for argument.</p><p class="">            “Two tics,” Tosh replied, already refastening the cover to the item she’d retrieved from the archives. It looked like the speed gun police used while monitoring traffic. She grabbed her PDA, laptop, a handful of tools and shoved these and the gun into her messenger bag.</p><p class="">            Jack led the two women to the SUV with his coat tails flapping.</p><p class="">            “Right,” Owen began, his voice sounding strained, “I have ordered an evacuation to the Hub. I’m going to need to send flowers, chocolates, and possibly blank checks to assuage these people.”</p><p class="">            “I’ll take care of it,” Ianto offered, sounding stretched thin himself.</p><p class="">            Jack climbed into the driver’s seat and Gwen jumped in front of Tosh in order to claim the passenger seat for herself. Tosh shook her head and settled herself into the seat behind Gwen. Once Jack had the car racing toward the animal shelter, Gwen pulled her mobile from her pocket. She had missed three of Rhys’s calls. She dialed.</p><p class="">            “Hi!” she exclaimed once he answered the phone.</p><p class="">            “Gwen! My god! Where have you been? I called and called and yo—“ Rhys began, in full rant mode.</p><p class="">            “Sorry, sweetheart, it’s just been a hell of a case. You know, one of those bad days that just doesn’t end,” she offered, sweetly.</p><p class="">            “Bloody Torchwood. Will you be home tonig—“</p><p class="">            “Oh, I don’t know,” she tossed her hair back. She could do for a shower. “Jack seems to think that we won’t be done before midnight.” As soon as she said it she looked at Jack guiltily. He glanced at her and held her gaze for a long moment before returning his eyes to the road.</p><p class="">            “I’ll—“</p><p class="">            “That sounds great. I’ll speak to you later,” she said, flipping her mobile closed.</p><p class="">            “In the future,” Owen snarked, “turn off your comms before making private calls, yeah?”</p><p class="">            Gwen blushed. Jack refrained from commenting on this.</p><p class="">            “Owen,” Jack began, “how are you?”</p><p class="">            Owen grunted. “You know, the usual. Lifting stretchers into a transport.”</p><p class="">            Jack seemed to be taking stock of something. “Do you need a hand?”</p><p class="">            “Wouldn’t turn one away. Send me Tosh, yeah?” Owen asked.</p><p class="">            Gwen turned in her seat to see Tosh, who was tapping away at the settings on her new toy. Tosh blushed, but tried to hide it.</p><p class="">            “Sorry, no can do,” Jack replied. “I need her to use this fancy heat seeking thing she’s built. I can leave Gwen.”</p><p class="">            Gwen squawked indignantly. “What? No, you can’t, Jack! You need me in the field!”</p><p class="">            Without a second thought, Jack swung the SUV sharply to the side of the road and braked hard.</p><p class="">            “Actually,” he began, with faux-sweetness, “your behavior in the field today has been atrocious. You’re suspended to the Hub.”</p><p class="">            Gwen gaped. “What?”</p><p class="">            “Get out, we need to get going,” Jack ordered.</p><p class="">            Gwen, realizing that Jack was serious, looked out her window to orient herself.</p><p class="">            “I’m going to have to walk back to the Plass!” she cried in outrage.</p><p class="">            “I hear there is public transport and some newfangled invented item, the taxi,” Jack replied with a dark grin. “Get moving.”</p><p class="">            Gwen exited the SUV in a huff. Jack stepped on the accelerator and lurched away from the kerb before her door was shut. Gwen glared. Traffic swept past her. A car full of teenage boys honked and whistled at her.</p><p class="">            Gwen stomped back down the road, looking for a taxi.</p><p class="">            “Jack?” Ianto asked over the comms. “ETA?”</p><p class="">            Gwen didn’t wait for the response. She ripped the unit out of her ear and stormed toward an intersection. She hailed a taxi and climbed into the backseat.</p><p class="">            “Where to, miss?” the driver inquired, politely.</p><p class="">            “The Mermaid Quay” was on the tip of her tongue, but instead, she smiled and gave the man her own address. She’d just nip home, take a shower, change, and drive back. No one would be the wiser. She settled back in her seat and ignored the steady noise from her pocket. The comms continued to offer a background buzz, but she’d deal with that when she was calmed down.</p><p class="">            Once the door to her flat swung shut behind her, Gwen relaxed. She pulled her gun from the waistband of her jeans and set it next to the door so she’d be sure to grab it on her way out again. She ripped off her jacket and laid it next to the gun. She stripped out of her clothes and threw them in a pile in front of the washer, then headed straight for the bathroom.</p><p class="">            Showered and dressed in fresh clothes (and shoes with no mud on them), Gwen grabbed a bag of crisps from the counter, slid her gun back into her waistband, and put her jacket back on. She ran to her car. It was lucky that she’d had Rhys drop her at work the day before.</p><p class="">            It wasn’t until she was pulling into her usual parking spot at the Hub that she realized she’d left her comms unit and mobile in the pockets of her dirty jeans. She considered running back to get them, but finally decided to just go on without them.</p><p class="">            Once she entered the Hub, she gaped in shock. Owen was backed up the stairs to Jack’s office, surrounded by the reanimated Gyhjjiop corpses.</p><p class="">            “Holy fuck!” Owen yelled, upon spotting Gwen. “Head shots. Now! I’m out of bloody bullets!”            </p><p class="">            Gwen set her jaw and grabbed her gun. Safety off. Target sited. She fired. And fired again and again. She didn’t remember this many people going to hospital. Gwen looked at the corpses littering the Hub floor and gagged.</p><p class="">            “Where the fuck were you?” Owen raged. He jumped over the bodies at the bottom of the stairs and launched himself toward her. “I was nearly infected about eight times. Where the fuck were you? We’ve been hailing you for about an hour!”</p><p class="">            Gwen stepped away from Owen’s rage and raised her hands to defend herself. Absently, she noted that she still held her gun. Owen sneered at her and then replied to whomever had spoken to him on the comms.</p><p class="">            “No, she’s here now. Fucking lot of good she was when I arrived,” he snapped. Then he stepped back to one of the corpses and poked it with his toe. “I think we’ve got the Gyhjjiop contained here, but I want to double check.”</p><p class="">            Owen glared at Gwen. “You better find a comms unit, princess.”</p><p class="">            Without another word, he stalked to the armory and retrieved a box of bullets. He carried them back to his desk and began to reload his clip. Gwen flicked the safety back on her gun, but carried it at her side. She went to her desk and hunted around through the paper stacks for her back up communication device.</p><p class="">            “Gwen here,” she said once she placed it in her ear.</p><p class="">            There was a long silence. Then Jack exploded.</p><p class="">            “What the hell, Cooper! I gave you an assignment and you went AWOL! Owen couldn’t—“</p><p class="">            Gwen’s hackles raised. “Owen is dead. There’s not really much that could hurt him.”</p><p class="">            Owen looked up at his name and his glare intensified. He stood and walked toward a Gyhjjiop host.</p><p class="">            Jack went quiet. Then, with an icy command, “Secure the Hub and then get here. We will deal with this once the threat is contained. Harkness out.”</p><p class="">            Owen’s weapon discharged. Gwen jumped and then glared.</p><p class="">            “Give me a hand, won’t you?” Owen snapped.</p><p class="">            Gwen unsafetied her gun and shot the nearest Gyhjjiop host while maintaining eye contact with Owen. Owen snorted and rolled his eyes.</p><p class="">            “Not frightening,” he commented.            </p><p class="">            After they had ensured each of the hosts was not going to revive, Owen and Gwen hauled the bodies down into the morgue. Each body got a drawer. Gwen fought against a wave of nausea. All those people died, in such a senseless manner! Hours before she had grieved Janine Maxwell’s bullet wound and now she was the one administering them. It was sickening.</p><p class="">            “Come along, PC Cooper,” Owen sneered, trying for fake brightness. “Work to do!”</p><p class="">            Gwen cast another sorrowful look at the morgue drawer door before following Owen. Owen grabbed his car keys before Gwen could demand that she get to drive. Owen’s driving had been scary before he had died. Now, it was just plain terrifying.            </p><p class="">            Gwen rode with her eyes tightly shut and Owen mocking her. The shelter was roped off with stakes and dark black plastic sheeting hanging from each post. The plastic only reached about two feet off the ground. Police crime scene tape flapped around the exterior of this.</p><p class="">            Owen and Gwen climbed over the black plastic barrier into the field. There, Ianto, Jack, and Tosh stood scanning the area. Jack had a shotgun and Ianto was holding the handle of an industrial style broom.</p><p class="">            As they approached, Gwen heard Tosh report, “There. Three o’clock. Twenty yards.”</p><p class="">            Then Ianto and Jack walked out to Tosh’s directions. Ianto used the handle to sweep aside the tall weeds, and, upon spotting their prey, Jack fired.</p><p class="">            “Isn’t that a bit of overkill?” Gwen asked when Jack returned. “I mean if you shoot a mouse with a shotgun, what is left? Fur?”</p><p class="">            “It’s sporting,” Jack replied. His tone was full of humor, but his eyes were ablaze with anger. Gwen had seen Jack respond this way when putting suspects off their game, but the technique had never been turned on her.</p><p class="">            “Still in one piece?” Ianto asked Owen. “Still dead?”</p><p class="">            Owen glared, but it was with the same amount of hatred as usual. “Still convinced that you’re not expendable?”</p><p class="">            “Boys,” Jack interrupted, sternly. “Owen, go get the other shotgun from the SUV. Gwen, find something to hunt through the grass with. We’ll form two teams.”</p><p class="">            Gwen stalked away as she heard Tosh give another location. Gwen circled the shelter and found an old rake. The shotgun fired behind her. She carried the rake back with her.</p><p class="">            Tosh stood in the center of the field and made slow circles, taking readings. Ianto and Jack worked one side of the field, and Owen and Gwen worked toward them carefully.</p><p class="">            When it was apparent that the Gyhjjiop had caught onto their plan, the teams began to circle around Tosh like hands on a clock. This too was only mildly affective.</p><p class="">            Owen reloaded his shotgun and called to the others. “Let’s burn them out.”</p><p class="">            Ianto located the petrol. Owen called the fire brigade. Tosh, Jack, and Gwen made slow perimeter checks just in case the Gyhjjiop decided to try to escape their plastic cage.</p><p class="">            “Mice burrow,” Gwen grumbled, her eyes following the short fake wall. The plastic sheeting rustled in the breeze. “This can’t be working.”</p><p class="">            In about an hour, the fire brigade, having been fed the story that the rabies outbreak had reached the field mice, arrived with several water trucks. There were, apparently, things to take into consideration before someone could torch a field. As they set up their equipment, Tosh, Owen, and Ianto continued hunting mice outside the perimeter. So far, there had been no gunfire.</p><p class="">            Jack marched up to Gwen, his coat billowing. His face was set in a hard frown.</p><p class="">            “A word,” he demanded.</p><p class="">            Gwen followed Jack at a more sedate pace than his long strides. Once they were next to the SUV, she widened her eyes and pouted.</p><p class="">            “I’m sorry, Jack, it was an honest mistake, I just popped home to shower and change and—“</p><p class="">            Jack held up his hand and interrupted. “There is no ‘I popped home,’ Gwen. You know that when we’re on duty we stay that way until the threat is—“</p><p class="">            “I shouldn’t be punished for this!” Gwen snapped, and threw up her hands. “I took a break to calm down. I know Owen does the same thing, and Ianto takes cigarette breaks when he needs some air—“</p><p class="">            “You’re right,” Jack acknowledged, and Gwen quieted. “But neither of them would ever think of shutting off their lines of communication during a crisis. People could have died because you were too angry to keep in contact. I have one rule, Gwen, keep your phone on. You broke that rule.” Jack looked around at the fire brigade beginning to move close to the plastic perimeter. “When this is over, we will discuss the repercussions.”</p><p class="">            He strode away from her to speak to the fire chief. Gwen tossed her head. Repercussions would be nil, she knew. No matter what situation she found herself in, Jack let her off. This would be no different. She trailed after her boss and watched the fire brigade lay down a foam coating. The foam hissed and then ignited. Jack motioned for Gwen to follow him around to the other side of the perimeter.</p><p class="">            As the fire advanced, rodents, a snake, and some rabbits ran toward them. Tosh held out her heat gun.</p><p class="">            “I’m getting too much interference from the fire!” she cried, as she twisted settings. “Nothing! The fire is just—“</p><p class="">            Jack nodded at her assessment, and took aim. As a rabbit neared him, he shot it. Owen did the same. Tosh and Ianto lifted the handguns and began to fire as well. Gwen stepped back from her co-workers and watched with concern. A fire blazed toward them and they shot at innocent field animals, whether they were alien hosts or not. The fire brigade didn’t seem fazed. Jack certainly didn’t seem fazed. Gwen turned around and vomited.</p><p class="">            The fire burned itself out. The last of the Gyhjjiop were destroyed. Jack sent them all home. Gwen sat on her sofa and watched the evening news as Rhys hummed in the kitchen. Dinner smelled divine and Gwen’s stomach growled.</p><p class="">            Then the news changed stories.</p><p class="">            “A local bird watcher reported the location of a body this afternoon,” the lead reporter offered in a voice over. The camera panned across a familiar industrial park and emergency service vehicles. “Detective Kathy Swanson reports that the body appears to be a young girl, whose identity has not yet been released.” The video showed several people carrying a body bag on a gurney up from the side of the road.</p><p class="">Swanson’s voice cut in. “We are saddened by this tragic discovery in our city. However, we cannot yet release details about this young girl or any ongoing investigations—“</p><p class="">Gwen snapped off the TV and closed her eyes. In the kitchen, Rhys rattled a pan.</p><p class="">“All right, love?” he called.</p><p class="">She grimaced. “It was a rough couple of days at work, that’s all.”</p>
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